Who Are You
by AbstractionDesolation
Summary: Loki has no memory. Tony and the Avengers don't know what to do with this villain-turned-civilian.
1. Memoryless

_This was a story prompt off of Tumblr. If there's interest I'll continue to pursue it._

"He's unconscious."

"Not dead? After all that?"

"Not yet. But he will be." A wicked grin spread over the bearded face. "He will be."

ooooooooooo

Chains were unbound. A bloody, beaten, limp body roughly and unceremoniously dumped to the floor. Pity only went so far; this was a release from death, not a release from imprisonment. Death was too good for the man in front of him. Banishment. Thrown to the winds, to spin randomly within the nine, without memory or magic. An endless torture of uncertainty and helplessness. His lips curled in a poor imitation of the smirk usually worn by the prisoner.

A bright light, an inaudible thrumming, and the body vanished. He wiped his hands on his shirt, noticing the bloody streaks left behind. The last evidence that he had ever been here. And soon even that would be gone.

oooooooooo

He knew he'd been released. Felt the change as he was cast out to fall where he would. It took all of the effort he could muster to channel his energy and will himself to land. A bare hint, a whisper of a memory, called him to ... To where, he wasn't sure, but it felt right. The world flashed green and he lapsed back into insensibility.

oooooooooooo

Tony checked his bearings. Beneath him spread a wooded expanse of Nowhere, New York. "Jarvis, you sure you sent me to the right coordinates?"

The voice that replied had a smooth British accent. "Yes sir, the energy spike came from your exact spot."

Tony landed with a metallic thump. He peered around, noting broken branches and a large divot in the earth. "Maybe you're right." He swore he heard sarcasm when Jarvis answered.

"Of course."

He crouched, the mask sliding away from his face as he reached out in curiosity. There was blood in the indent. Not a lot, but enough to cause concern. "An animal?"

"The spike felt more like the readings from Mr. Odinson's arrival. Perhaps he has returned."

"If he did, he's a long way off the mark and hurt..." He stood and carefully edged around to the far side. A few feet away something was partially obscured in the shadows of a large tree. He paused in shock. Pale flesh stretched taut over angular facial features, half hidden by matted black tangles. Bloody rivulets traced the bruised, nearly naked form. With a hissed inhale, Tony recognized the seemingly dead man.

"Loki!" Confused and suddenly wary Tony and eased towards the fallen foe. There was no hint of life, no breath shifted the battered chest. Just in case he raised a gloved hand, ready to blast any attempts of attack. "Jarvis? Is this an illusion? He's supposed to be dead."

"I'm detecting distinct heat signature - though it is well below human normal - and other data that makes this unlikely to be a duplicate. He's alive, but barely. I'm noting numerous contusions, head wound,"

"I can see that. He's got more lives than a cat! How'd he get here?"

"I would suggest waking him and asking. Should I alert S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"No!" It was vehement. He didn't know quite why, he just knew he didn't want Loki in the hands of Fury. Not just yet. The bastard had thrown him out a window - he wondered if he should see how apologetic Loki could be. It was far too easy to lift the unconscious man. Loki was so thin, emaciated. Stark almost - almost - felt sorry for him. Whatever had been done to him had obviously gone far beyond imprisonment and into the realm of torture.

He didn't want Thor to know. Not just yet. The man was still grieving over the seeming death of his brother. Tony didn't know how to contact him anyway. Besides, what if Loki succumbed to his wounds? He'd be making Thor lose his brother all over again. It was a weak argument, but Tony only needed minimal self assurance when it came to telling himself he was right to do whatever he wanted to do in the first place.

"Incoming Jarvis. Pull up some basic medical information and see what we've got on hand. I don't want to get anyone else in on this. Not yet."

"Of course."

Tony shifted his burden and fired up the suit. Face mask back in place he flew toward the tower.

oooooooooooooo

Using the suit to enhance his strength he manhandled Loki into the penthouse. It took some doing but Loki was finally taken to a monitored "guest bedroom" and his wounds looked over. Oddly enough there were no open cuts beneath the blood. Tony was pretty sure there had been at least some fresh wounds based on the evidence, but everything he could see looked several days healed.

Using damp towels he cleaned the rest of the grime as best he could and slid a pair of sweatpants up Loki's legs. They were too short, but it was better than leaving him almost naked. He stared at the black snarls of Loki's hair and grimaced. Not much for it but to cut it off. He almost smiled at the thought. It would serve the trickster right. He went to grab a clipper, hoping Loki wouldn't wake up just quite yet.

When he got back the other man hadn't moved. In minutes the long locks were shorn away. Somehow, without the hair and in combination with the skinny and still bruised body, Loki looked almost pathetic. Tony sighed. He didn't want to pity Loki. Really he wanted to hate him. But it was hard to hold on to the anger in the face of this level of abuse.

Finally, with a sigh, he decided he'd done what was possible. Loki's injuries seemed to be healing quickly. It was the fact that Loki remained comatose that was worrisome... "Jarvis, alert me when he wakes up. I need a drink." Tony switched off the light and debated locking the door. He finally did, figuring that Loki would probably be pissed when he woke, and a locked door would provide, oh, say five milliseconds of lead time before all hell broke loose.


	2. New Information

_I'm borrowing elements (hopefully in a unique way!) from other stories I've read, as well as minor tidbits of mythology. I apologize if anything is wrong or derivative. Read Finally Belonging by Yodeling Prospector or The Bargain by Lotus Fantasy and you'll see the elements I'm playing with._

 _oooooooooo_

"Sir, you should see this."

Jarvis' voice stirred Tony from his uneasy rest. He'd fallen asleep in one of the chairs in his spacious living room. "Hmmm? Did Loki wake up?" He rubbed his face and stretched.

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?" Tony was wide awake now, realizing the potential implications of an awakened trickster god. He pulled up the image of Loki's room on the tv screen. The time stamp read the current time - nearly four am - and Loki was still lying in bed, unmoved. What caught Tony's attention was the... "Is that what I think it is?" There was a second man in the room, sitting next to the unconscious one. Leather armor in black, green eyes, black hair, and a familiar face. The double seemed to be on guard, though Tony knew from experience that it would vanish if touched.

"Yes sir, the image appeared shortly after you left. What I wish to show you is other. Note the ambient temperature in the corner of the screen?"

The reading startled Tony. "That has to be a malfunction somewhere Jarvis. Have you run diagnostics and rechecked?"

"Everything is running perfectly. That is an accurate reading."

Leaning forward Tony stared. "It's fifteen degrees in there? What the hell does that mean?"

oooooooooo

It had been three days. Tony had kept constant watch on the video feed of Loki's room. Even in the lab he had a monitor dedicated, just in case. The temperature readings stayed well below freezing and the double never moved. Neither did Loki. He'd thought maybe the man had died, but Jarvis assured him that wasn't the case, so he left well enough alone. He didn't want to poke the bear so to speak.

He was tinkering with the suit in hopes of gaining a bit more mobility in some of the joints when he looked up and saw that there was movement on the screen. At that moment Jarvis spoke up. "Sir, he appears to be awake."

Tony watched as the double vanished and Loki bolted upright, panting, with the whites of his eyes showing. He looked panicked, head turning side to side. The notation in the corner flashed through numbers before settling back to the normal household temperature. There was no sound, but Tony saw that Loki was screaming. He dropped the metal and took off for the room.

oooooooooo

Incredible pain. Searing so intensely that he thought he might die. He sat up in unfamiliar surroundings, so scared he couldn't stand it. He screamed in panic, agony, and frustration. He had no idea where he was, but that wasn't the worst of it. He had no idea who he was. He couldn't remember. There was no past to draw on, no memory to pull up, nothing. The pain subsided, and he stopped screaming.

"You okay in here Reindeer Games?"

Loki whirled towards the voice and scrambled away, nearly falling backwards off the bed. He tried to speak but it came out a hoarse and broken croak.

The man in the doorway chuckled. Anger flared suddenly and died before Loki could figure out why he would be angry. He was left confused and scared. He slid backward off the bed, trying to stand to face the intruder. His legs had been disused for too long and he collapsed in a heap.

"Whoa there Loki." The other man walked around the bed and offered his hand. Loki stared at it, unmoving. "Come on, I'll help you up." He was grabbed by the forearm and tugged. He had to make an attempt. He pushed himself up, slowly, hissing through his teeth as his limbs protested. With a little guidance he felt himself settle on the edge of the bed again.

He felt humiliated. He didn't know why, but it felt wrong to be helped like this. He cleared his throat and tried again. It was still quiet but he managed. "Where am I?" He looked up. The other man was watching him, an intent and curious look on his face.

"You're in Stark Tower." He seemed to be waiting for a reaction but it meant nothing to Loki.

"Where is that?" His voice was getting stronger but he still felt weak.

"Quit messing with me Loki." There was a thread of anger.

"Who's Loki?" Running a hand over his head he felt the strange tickle of really really short hair. Another feeling of wrongness slid through him and he sighed. His body obviously remembered what his mind balked at. He would just have to wait and see if he ever caught up.

"Cut the bullshit Reindeer Games. You know what you did. Or should I throw you out the window to remind you?" The man crouched in front of him, face to face from a foot away. Loki flinched - why throw him out the window?

"Reindeer Games? Loki? Who are you and why am I here?" His voice came out strong and he was proud. He almost felt ready to stand, though he wasn't sure he wanted to with the stranger so close. A tiny whisper told him to be wary of the person in front of him, and with no other input he thought it best to err on the side of caution. He remained sitting on the edge of the bed, staring unblinkingly at the confusing man in front of him.

oooooooooo

There was no trace of guile in the green eyes that locked into his. No flicker of remembrance, no heat of anger, nothing but confusion and a strange weariness that seemed to come from eons untold. He'd been watching very closely and there hadn't been a single hint that Loki had recognized anything. Not his name, not the odd nickname Tony had given him once, not even the mention of Stark Tower, which should have triggered at least something in regards to being in enemy territory.

"I'm Tony. You're in my house." He figured he'd play along until he figured out the end game. He felt relatively safe from attack after seeing Loki fall on his ass trying to stand up. "You were pretty beat up when you got here. You've been sleeping for over three days. You also stink." He smiled as Loki surreptitiously sniffed and grimaced. "You need a shower. Come on."

He stood and leaned to help Loki stand, but stepped back quickly when Loki rose awkwardly on his own. "Fast healer." There was open amazement in the words but the other man didn't acknowledge it. From so close Tony realized that Loki was several inches taller, and though he was still desperately thin he wasn't as skeletal as he had been days ago. It was another conundrum - it's not like he had eaten anything in the past days, so how was he looking so much better?

"Well, come on then." Leading the way towards the room's connected bathroom, he shook his head. It was getting more and more puzzling.

ooooooooooo

The hot water was a shock to his system and he nearly fell. Scrambling for the knobs, he whimpered. When the shower finally turned frigid he relaxed and stood straight, letting the stinging drops cleanse him. Tony had seemed wary of him somehow. It was flattering in a way. Did that make him someone dangerous? Someone important enough to be feared? He so wished he knew, but there was no hint in his mind of who he had been.

He used the soaps he found in the niche in the shower wall and found himself trying to wash his hair. He dropped his arms when he realized it was a foolish point; so why did muscle memory tell him to do it? He ached so badly... Every muscle shrieked when he moved, his skin protested where touched.

 _Knives slid lines and patterns through his flesh. Lightning flared in him an instant before he heard the whip crack. Thin silver chain bound his wrists, seemingly delicate but wreaking far more havoc on him than could be imagined. Cruel laughter, taunts, and pain, pain, pain. The reek of meat as they jeered "Burn Jotun, burn" and pressed red hot metal to his back._

He gasped and tumbled to the shower floor, sobbing. As he cried, the illusion of health slipped him and he became the desperate and wounded person he was. He quivered beneath the water, letting himself give substance to his turmoil. When tears finally ran dry he stood cautiously and turned the shower off. He climbed carefully from the stall and wrapped the massive red towel around his slim hips. Loki stood in front of the foggy mirror and looked intently at himself.

His eyes were hollow, from starvation as much as physical hurt and crying. His hair was shorn unevenly and he felt a pang of loss for something he didn't truly remember. Green eyes with no sparkle or tease, just a near total fatigue. Now that the... the what?.. was gone... he looked like he felt - just this side of death. What the hell had that been? An illusion surely, but how had Tony done it? It made no matter. Whatever it had been it was gone and Loki could see how scarred and bruised he was.

He stood for a long time, gazing at the mirror, trying to will himself to remember who he was. Why he'd been tortured - because he had been tortured, he was sure of that now. Had Tony done it? If he had, why? And what was going to come next? He shivered. He had threatened to throw him out the window... Was that the next torment? He just didn't know, and he just wasn't sure he even cared. Surely he'd die soon under this treatment. He hoped he'd die soon. He feared the was just the beginning.

oooooooooo

When Loki finally emerged Tony gasped aloud. "You look like hell," he spoke softly.

"Hel is a woman." Loki didn't know why he said that, or how he knew it. He just walked tiredly past Tony, half fearing what he would do and half indifferent. His movements were slow, stiff. When he finally reached the window he leaned his forehead against it, arm curled above his head, pressed against the glass. Dawn light was sneaking over the horizon but barely and Loki's pale face reflected against darkness. He spoke without turning. "Look, this is getting old. I'm too hurt to fight back. I can't remember anything beyond waking up so there's no information to be gotten from me. Just kill me and get it over with." He sighed, looking at the unfamiliar city, whole body tensed.

Studying Loki, Tony noticed all of the thin scars and bruises. Patterns of cuts, whip lashes, burns... Loki's back was a landscape of assault. He saw how truly Loki, once called Silver Tongue, meant it. It hurt him to see such a powerful foe reduced to a broken man. The would-be ruler of Earth, of Asgard, a Mage so strong and clever that even Thor had taken note, and he was practically begging to be killed. He wondered if Loki knew he'd been projecting his appearance, making himself seem better off than he was. If he knew, why did he stop? If he didn't know, how had he done it in the first place? Or what if this body is the illusion to throw Tony off guard? A headache was starting in his temples from the lunacy of the whole thing.

Tony groaned. "If this is an act, it's a good one. I'd nominate you for the Oscar myself." He moved closer. "I'm not gonna kill you, ok. No more attacks either. Whoever did this can't touch you anymore. Here." He held out a bundle of clothes and a red can. "Drink that. It's nasty but it's good for you. Well, it's good for a hangover... I don't know about starvation..." He trailed off. Loki hadn't moved. "Here." He popped the lid and stood nearer, holding it out.

"Thank you." He took it and drank, nearly gagging at the thick, overly sweet fluid. He swallowed half the container, incredibly thirsty.

"Slow down there Bambi. It's not going anywhere." Tony touched Loki's shoulder and turned him until they faced each other. He looked straight into those once vibrant eyes and asked in a deadly serious voice "So you're not here to kill me?" A small frown appeared between black eyebrows as he watched. "Promise me. You aren't here to kill anyone... Or try to take over the world. Again."

Loki laughed, but it was a thin imitation of the gleefully maniacal laughter Tony had heard before. "Why? How? Are you mad?" He gestured at himself, still wearing a towel and clutching a can of supplement. "I'm nearly dead and you think I'm here for some sinister plan? Just get on with whatever you're going to do to me and quit asking ridiculous questions."

Stepping back, Tony was slightly mollified. It seemed there really was no danger. He held out the bundle again. "Clothes." He turned his back as Loki set the drink on the small table next to the bed and took the clothing. Tony had rummaged more sweat pants and a t-shirt that he didn't remember as being his own. After a few minute he turned back, facing a fully clad Loki. The clothes were ill fitting, but at least he wasn't naked any more.

Tony motioned back to the side table where Loki had placed the empty can next to several unopened ones. "There's plenty there, but take it slow. You should get some rest. Later today we'll get you some real food. And some better clothes. Hand me downs ill suit gods." He chuckled to himself at the bewildered look he got. "Don't worry about it. Go to bed." He strode toward the door, visions of going back to sleep dancing in his head.

"What's my name?"

The soft inquiry made him pause and look back.

"You've called me Reindeer Games, Loki, and Bambi. What's my name?" Jotun? Loki wondered, remembering the taunts. He was sitting on the edge of the bed again, and Tony was grateful he'd thought to change the sheets.

"You're Loki. I just call you that other stuff cuz I call everyone by random names. Part of my charm." He smiled gently before making his exit. That simple question had almost broken his heart.

oooooooooo

"Bruce? Yeah, it's Tony. Look, I hate to do this, but I need a favor... No, shouldn't be too hard... Look. I need you to not tell the others about this. ... No you won't regret it. Probably won't. ... Ok, probably might. ...Yeah. Well, just come over. I'll explain when you get here. Thanks man."


	3. New Acquaintances

"You're insane! You know that, right? Absolutely batshit insane." Bruce paced the lab, running his hands though his hair over and over and glancing periodically at Tony with an incredulous look on his face. "Batshit, bugfuck, over the moon insane. What on earth made you think this was a good idea?"

Tony had to hide a smile. The doc rarely swore, and it was made all the funnier by the fact that he was trying to stay calm and quiet, so the rant was more of a "don't wake the children" type whisper than a full out tirade. "Do you have a better plan?"

Bruce stopped pacing and placed his hands on the table, straight armed, head hanging. Without looking up he mumbled, "Anything but purposely calling the Other Guy. We don't know what he'd do. Throw Loki into the mix and we could have a catastrophe on our hands." He took a slow, deep breath. "Why'd you bring him here anyway? What possessed you to bring Loki here. Why not to Fury? Why not to Thor? Anywhere but here? And wanting to bait him? You're as crazy as an outhouse rat."

Tony turned the screen he'd been fiddling with. Bruce circled the table and slid onto a work stool to watch. It was an edited video of the last few days. "It's so cold!" His voice was hushed as he picked up instantly what Tony had failed to notice at first. "He maintained that temperature?" Tony nodded. Fixated on the movie Bruce leaned forward murmuring. He saw the duplicate Loki, saw it vanish as Loki woke in terror. "What happened?" Barely audible when Loki emerged from the bathroom looking worse than when he'd entered.

"Near as I can tell, whatever happened after he 'died' was ..." He shrugged, unsure of what to say. "He's been tortured. Burns, what looks like whip marks, knife wounds..." He trailed off again as he saw Bruce tremble. "Don't think about it. Don't let it rile you up. You're right. We don't need to bring out the Hulk." He watched, on edge until Bruce settled down with several slow, deep breaths.

"I'm sorry Bruce." The doc nodded, but didn't speak. Tony moved on. "Anyway. He doesn't seem to recall anything. Didn't recognize me even!" Bruce laughed, a soft huff, at Tony's indignant narcissism. "I thought, since you - Hulk rather - kicked his ass quite handily that maybe we could smoke out whether he is bullshitting us about this memory thing. You know, show him someone he despises and piss him off to the point he slips up?"

Bruce chuckled. "I can see how you came to that... But why me? You could put Clint or Thor in the room with him. Or, hell, probably just hand him to S.H.I.E.L.D. and piss him off. You just want to see me lose it." He smiled slightly as Tony gave another shrug, a "you caught me" look plain on his face.

ooooooooo

Loki glanced up from the book he'd been reading when he heard footsteps. He'd been bored sitting alone in his room for so long. It had been almost two days since he'd woken and Tony had agreed that it must be a bit mind numbing and gave him free rein through the living room and kitchen area. Loki tired easily, though he really did seem to be getting better faster than normal. After all the supplemental drink and a few sandwiches - all Tony seemed capable of making on his own - he had lost the skeletal, haunted look, though he was far from hale and hearty. He closed the book, leaving a scrap of paper as a bookmark.

"Good morning." Tony smiled, as did the rumpled looking man standing slightly behind and to his side. Tony's smile was wide, open and bright. The other man had a more of a shy quirk to his lips and didn't look fully at Loki. "This is Bruce. You two have met before. He actually kicked your ass the last time. Smashed you into the floor - I had to have a new floor put in to get your imprint out." Tony had a playful tone, but the other man - Bruce - had snapped his attention to Tony and was looking between Loki and Tony as if he expected something disastrous.

Shrugging, Loki toyed with the book in his lap. Bruce was shorter than Tony by a bit, and bookish looking. He had unkempt curly hair and glasses, and a weariness to his stance that Loki could sympathize with. But being able to beat him? He hardly looked it - maybe Tony was making a joke. Loki smirked to himself. "If you say so. Do you plan on letting him do it again? I am feeling better, though hardly to full strength... And it would be a shame to put a dent in this floor."

Bruce stepped forward, nudging Tony as he passed, until he was standing in front of the chair Loki was lounging on. He crouched and Loki had a momentary vision of the time Tony had done the same thing. "You really... You don't remember?" He took off his glasses and stared into Loki's face. "Truly. Don't remember?" As he spoke Loki saw threads of green shift through his brown eyes.

Loki shifted uncomfortably. "How'd you do that?" Bruce blinked and his eyes were back to warm chocolate again. Loki stared still, until Bruce stood and turned to Tony.

"I don't think he's faking it Tony. He really doesn't remember." He shifted to face Loki again and held out his hand. "Hi Loki. Nice to officially meet you. I'm Bruce Banner."

Shaking the offered hand Loki raised an eyebrow. "Hello. I suppose I'm Loki. That's what he said my name is anyway." He nodded his head towards Tony, who was still standing there, arms folded across his chest and watching the scene. "Do you know how to make anything besides sandwiches? Tony can't cook to save his life and I'm sick of this chocolate shake supplement stuff."

Bruce laughed, startling Loki and Tony. He got the feeling it wasn't a common occurrence for his new acquaintance. Tony chuckled too.

"He's got your number, Stark. Yeah, I cook. What do you want?" His eyes glittered with humor and Loki smiled back.

"Anything that's not peanut butter. Meat would be good." He couldn't think of anything specific.

"It'll depend on what he's got in the place, but I'm sure I could manage something. If nothing else there's always shwarma..."

The other two shared a look that said Bruce wasn't speaking gibberish, but Loki just looked blank. With a sheepish glance Bruce stammered an apology and went off to the kitchen.

Loki turned to Tony. "Your friend seems a little... Off." He couldn't settle on a word, and he didn't want to offend.

"Yeah, well, he can be a bit of a monster at times. The rest of the time he's just a shy marshmallow. He makes a hell of a meal though. You doing alright Bambi?"

He'd done a bit of research on the small tablet Tony had lent him. He knew Bambi was a deer.. Though why Tony kept referring to him as such was still a mystery. The ... what was it called... internet ... was an intriguing thing. Something he was fairly sure hadn't been a part of his life before. The small device had yielded tons of information, though nothing wholly useful as such. Tony was waiting for an answer. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think I feel up to getting some new clothes today if that's ok by you." He motioned to the sweats and t-shirt "I kinda want something a little more..." He waved his hand back and forth in a waffling motion.

"Hey, that's a classic rock shirt man. But yeah. We can go after lunch. Have Bruce let me know when it's ready. I'm going to the lab."

"I will." He picked his book up as Tony left the room, shifting to keep the bright sunlight out of his eyes, and went back to reading.

oooooooo

" _Odd and the Frost Giants_... Out of all the books to pick, he picks that one? A subconscious effort to remind himself of who and what he is?" Tony muttered, making a few modifications to the surveillance in Loki's room. He had adjusted the camera so it showed only the door to the room - it felt wrong to watch the former god sleeping now that he was obviously no longer on death's doorstep. He also added audio capabilities, set for Jarvis to alert him if Loki said certain key words.

He just hoped Loki didn't remember suddenly that they hated one another and blast the hell out of him. Bruce had taken Loki out for clothes after lunch, taking one of Tony's credit cards with them. Tony hated shopping for anything that wasn't shiny, electronic, or motorized. When the other two had left he'd turned on the stereo system and started adjusting a few things around the penthouse, finally able to relax and be off of high alert. He sang along, badly and off key, and waited for the notice that the guys were back.


	4. Truce

"He was ... Nice." Bruce shrugged, not knowing what else to say. "We went out, I took him to the store, he picked out some clothes. He doesn't talk much."

"You don't either." Tony tossed a rag at Bruce. "And what's all this crap?" He motioned to the bags on the kitchen counter.

"Groceries. We can't live on scotch and peanut butter like you can."

"We?" Eyebrows raised, Tony set his drink down and stared at Bruce.

Another shrug and a sheepish grin. "You can't leave him here alone when you go to *work*. What if he ... You know ... Remembers he hates us?"

"And? Why does that mean I need ... Oh."

"My room is still available I assume?" He smiled at Tony's nod. "So I'll stay here and keep him company so he doesn't try to take over the world."

"Fine. But if he blows something up and you go green and scary -" Bruce huffed quietly at that "then I get to blast you both."

"Deal. Now move so I can make dinner."

0000000000

Over the next few days Loki gained strength and soon looked more like the arrogant and fierce warrior he had been. He was given access to the small gym room that was barely used and he spent some time trying to work up a bit of muscle. He didn't want to bulk up, but he figured he should be able to hold his own if one of the other two decided that he was a threat. They still seemed a bit wary of him - as if they expected him to lash out and attack. Loki would smirk at them when they seemed surprised by his reaction, or more often than not, his non-reaction.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The emerald shirt he had chosen made his eyes brighter. His hair was growing back nicely, and more importantly, evenly after a grimacing Bruce had borrowed the clippers and straightened things out. Tony had been chagrined at the scolding he'd gotten from the doc. Bruce had made it seem as if the small tufts and uneven patches had been done on purpose on Tony's part.

"Hey Bambi. Mind if I join ya?" Tony didn't wait for an answer and sat on the weight bench next to Loki. He was wearing jeans and a Hendrix shirt, barefoot and holding a glass that definitely didn't contain water.

Loki hooked his knees over the bar of his own bench and crossed his arms over his chest. "I assume you have something you want to say?" He leaned back, watching from the corner of his eye.

"Ya got me." Tony took a long swallow. "So. You don't remember anything huh?"

"Ya got me." Loki did a sit up, waiting for him to continue.

"Yeah. So. Anyway. What are you gonna do when you do remember?"

"Well," he did another sit up. "I guess that depends on what I remember. Are you guys going to beat the crap out of me?"

"I guess that depends on what you remember."

"Then I guess it's a standoff until it comes back to me." He kept doing sit ups as Tony got up.

"Good talk."

"Whatever you say." Tony left and Loki paused, chest pressed to his knees. "What in the hell was that about?"

00000000000

"Loooookkkkiiiiiii!" Tony howled, and Loki dissolved into giggles. Bruce looked up sharply, glasses half down his nose, a screwdriver in hand, as the door to his lab slammed open. Loki was doubled over on his lab stool, his own project forgotten on the table as he laughed.

"Tony? What's wro-" Bruce dropped the tool, biting his lip to keep from bursting out in laughter himself.

"You shut up." Tony pointed at him before turning on Loki. "What'd you do Rudolph? You think this is funny?" His hair had gone from his natural dark to a bright yellow. It contrasted sharply with his black eyebrows and red face.

Loki managed a "yes!" between chuckles.

"You look good blonde Stark. Makes you more ... playful." Bruce couldn't keep a straight face and looked quickly down at the table. Glancing up over the top of his glasses he caught Loki's eye. He just couldn't help it and full out laughed.

"Yeah, well, fuck you both." Tony turned on his heel and stormed out. They could faintly hear him ordering Jarvis to get some black hair dye as he went.

"Nice one. In the shampoo bottle?"

Loki nodded with a lip curling grin. "He needed to lighten up."

Bruce chuffed again and went back to his project.

0000000000

Tony periodically watched as Loki fiddled with some spare parts and pieces. After his hair had been set to rights he had to admit it was *maybe a little* funny. Loki was building something, long fingers showing dexterity and a cleverness with machinery Tony hadn't expected. Tony had let Loki come to his lab after Bruce had vouched for him, saying that Loki had never once interfered or messed with anything in his space. He didn't bring out the Iron Man suit while Loki was there, but he did work on a few other things. Once in a while Loki would pause in his tinkering and glance about the room, taking in all the screens and information. Then he would go back to his odds and ends.

"That number's wrong." Loki suddenly spoke up.

"No it's not." Tony frowned. "Which number?"

Loki stood and pointed to a screen. "Here. All this is in metric right?" He motioned vaguely at other points. Tony nodded, curious. "This right here..." he touched the screen and highlighted a section. "This is an imperial constant. Old data too." He refocused on his own work.

"Jarvis?" Tony peered at the red digits.

"It appears he is correct sir. That information is from an older file. It has since been updated. New information has rendered -"

"Got it." He interrupted, making a few gestures. The numbers changed and suddenly a portion of another image he'd been working on went from red to green. "How'd you know that?" He circled Loki's table where Loki had gone back to toying with his parts. He sat across from him and knocked on the black surface. When Loki glanced up he caught his eye and stared unblinking at him. "How did you know that?"

Loki squirmed slightly. "It felt wrong, so I looked it up." A slight head tilt toward the tablet on the counter and then a nod toward the newly green screen. "That felt wrong."

"It *felt* wrong? What does that mean?"

"It's hard to explain it. It's like that thing in your chest." Loki waved offhandedly toward the arc reactor.

"What about that *thing*?" It was a wary question, tinged with an almost fear and Tony found himself leaning just slightly away from the other man even though Loki hadn't moved.

"It feels right. Like it is good. It's not really anything I can put into words. But I can feel it. Like Jarvis is a right." Loki shrugged. "Why?"

"Why do you drop below freezing when you sleep?" Tony switched topic, uncomfortable with thinking about Loki "feeling" his arc reactor.

Confusion crossed his features as Tony watched. "What?"

"You drop below freezing when you sleep. Well, you did when I first brought you here at least. Why?"

"I don't know."

"Would you tell me if you did?"

Loki didn't answer. He just bit his lower lip, got up and slipped silently out of the lab. Tony found himself looking at Loki's vacated workspace. Sitting on the table was a little metal doll made of scrap pieces and spare parts. A small metal tab stuck out of its back and Tony picked it up, turning the tab curiously. The little metal man moved in his hands, its tiny head looking back and forth.

"Jarvis, pull up video of the last hour. I need to see how he did this."

Hours later he had scoured the images. Loki hadn't appeared to have any plan or instruction, just suddenly moving odds and ends here and there. He had looked up only one thing on his tablet, and that had been the equation he'd fixed. "How the bloody hell did he do that?" Tony turned the key tab again, only now noticing the small circle etched into the chest of the little toy. He hadn't yet explained to Loki about his other identity or that of Bruce or the other Avengers. "Damn his subconscious."

0000000000

"The Chitauri have failed. It is our time to step in."

"Understood sir."

"How long until we are ready?"

"Full forces will be mustered within the month."

"Make sure they are fully trained and ready. We will succeed where the Chitauri were defeated and deliver Earth to Thanos."

"Yes sir."

Black eyes fixed on a small blue dot, brightly shining on a glowing console. "We will crush them. And Thanos will reward us." Fingers like spider legs danced across a keyboard never meant for human understanding.


	5. You!

_Please forgive my poor understanding of timeline. I've only seen Avengers and Age of Ultron once. I haven't seen any of the other movies, including the Thor movies, yet at all. Everything else I'm getting from spot research and other fanfic._

0000000

"What have you guys been up to? Secreted away for nearly two weeks, keeping everyone out of the tower... We were starting to worry." Natasha folded her arms, putting voice to questions Clint and Steve also had. The two men stood, relaxed, waiting, as she questioned Bruce. The elevator seemed to be taking an inordinately long time and he squirmed slightly under the scrutiny.

"Well, uh, yeah. You guys didn't bring all your weapons did you?"

Three pairs of eyes focused pointedly on him and he fought the urge to try to scrunch himself into a ball in the corner.

"Bruce? What have you guys got going on?" Clint's voice was steely, and Bruce noticed the other man roll his shoulders. A shoulder rig most likely. Damn.

"Nothing. Nothing. We just don't want anyone ... You know... Uh... Doing something foolish." He muttered, not looking anyone in the face.

"Bruce? Tell us what we're walking into." Steve now, less hostile than Clint had been, but still with an edge of distrust.

The elevator stopped and Bruce nearly collapsed with relief. "You'll see soon enough. Just, promise me you won't pull a Tony stunt and shoot first then ask questions."

The door slid open and Bruce escaped, bee lining towards safety behind Tony who stood at the bar. The other three stepped out, everyone scanning the surroundings, on alert.

Steve spoke first as they cautiously stepped into the living room area. "Bruce was less than informative. What's going on Stark?"

Natasha gasped quietly, and a gun suddenly appeared in her hands. She was aiming at the man who had just risen from the couch and turned to face them. Her voice was icy. "What's _he_ doing here?"

000000000

Clint launched himself forward, over the back of the couch, quick as a thought. He and Loki crashed through the glass and wood coffee table. "You! You son of a bitch!" Clint was sitting astride the thinner man, fists raised to pummel. Suddenly he was knocked aside, hitting the floor with a grunt. He glared, eyes filled with hatred. Blood oozed down his arm from the glass he'd landed in. "Get out of the way doc. I don't want to hurt you. I just want him." Bruce just stood, breathing heavily, eyes tinged with green and kept himself between Clint and Loki.

"Enough!" Loud and angry.

The room froze. "Clint, you will not attack anyone. Natasha, back away." She took a careful step backwards from where she'd been preparing to leap onto Loki, a flash of silver revealing the knife she gripped. "Bruce, stand down. Steve... Just ... stay." Steve had been the only one not to immediately make a move against Loki. Tony came to stand amidst shards and shambles of the table. He caught everyone's eyes in turn as he reached down and offered Loki a hand up. His voice was a harsh, not to be fucked with growl. "Just, everyone, calm the hell down." In a calmer, clearer tone he asked, "You ok Bambi?"

"Bambi? Stark just what the fuck are you playing at?" Clint flipped the Captain a covert bird when Steve muttered, "Language Barton."

"Just calm down and maybe I can explain. Unless you want me to blast you or Bruce to go green on us." When no one said anything Tony sighed.

Loki stood, hands turned palms outward at his sides, watching. His black jeans glittered with glass fragments and one sleeve of his green and black shirt was torn. He didn't move, knowing that one small motion might get him attacked again. The man that had jumped him was powerful, and angry enough that Loki wasn't sure he would win if it came to a fight.

"Loki, Natasha." Tony motioned from Loki to the red headed woman that had been sneaking up behind him. "Steve," a nod toward the quiet blonde man still standing behind the couch and apart from the chaos. "And Clint." A nod at the visibly angry man that had smashed him to the floor. "Guys, this is Loki."

Clint snorted. "Why the introductions Stark? He knows who we are. He knows who _I am_. What I don't know is why he's here and not in a cage." He crossed his arms, hand conveniently close to what Loki assumed was a weapon concealed beneath the open flannel shirt he wore. He kept his own hands open, low, trying not to smirk, but not sure it was working.

He tried to look harmless as he spoke to the room at large. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are. Hell," he smiled slightly, "I don't know who I am." He turned to Clint, who had muttered something along the lines of "bullshit." "I take it that you know who I am then?"

"You're the guy that tried to bring our world to its knees and turned me against my friends and coworkers. You're the guy that killed hundreds, if not thousands. You're the guy that took away my free will and -" his voice grew louder and louder and he made as if he was going to take a step towards Loki. Tony raised a hand and pointed, making Clint pause.

"Did I now? And how did I manage that?" He couldn't help it. It sounded arrogant.

"Loki, don't bait him. He has plenty of reason to kill you already, don't make it worse."

There was no warning. A blink, a heartbeat, and Clint had drawn his gun. Time slowed to a crystalline crawl. He had all the opportunity in the world to duck, to brace for it - he simply closed his eyes, one arm thrown out as if to catch the bullet. Hell, maybe he deserved whatever was going to happen. The room sprang back into real time. Everyone yelled at once, Tony the loudest, and Loki opened his eyes to stare in as much in awe as the rest. Clint stood, gun arm outstretched before him in an unwavering stance, eyes wide. A hazy barrier undulated between the two men. The bullet lay useless on the floor.

"Clint you stupid son of a bitch! You could have killed him!" Tony slammed into him, carrying the two backward into the wall. The shield vanished. Tony wrested the gun from him, but Clint got a good punch in and Tony uffed in pain. Natasha grabbed for Clint's arm, dragging him sideways away from Tony. Bruce leapt in front of Tony, palms firmly against his chest as he pushed the taller man away. Steve stood nearest Loki, with an arm flung out across and in front of him in a protective gesture.

"Calm down you guys. Just. Calm. Down." Bruce was struggling to control his breathing, pulse visibly pounding at his neck. The sight seemed to have more effect than Tony's earlier yelling as everyone relaxed marginally. Tony tucked the gun in his own waistband. Natasha released Clint, who stood fuming but unmoving. Steve lowered his arm and Tony put a hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"Thanks buddy. Go calm down." It was soft, but Loki heard and he wondered just why everyone was suddenly so wary of the doc.

"You sure you got this?" Bruce accepted the nod in reply and the shoulder squeeze and disappeared from the room.

"How'd you do that Reindeer Games?" Tony stepped up opposite Steve.

A chagrined look crossed his face as Loki turned back to Tony. "I don't know. But I'm glad I did. I'm sorry Tony." Facing Clint again Loki held out a hand. "I'm sorry Clint. I'd make up for it if I could, but I don't know what I did, much less how to pay for it." The other man didn't move or acknowledge his statement. Lowering his hand he closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath in. When he opened his eyes the woman called Natasha was right in front of him. He flinched minutely, startled. She stared into his eyes.

"Loki. Look at me and tell me the truth. Do you remember what you did to us the last time you were here?" She was quiet and deadly serious, all eyes on her.

He licked his lips before replying and stared back. "I promise. I have no idea what he's talking about." She didn't blink, so neither did he. Finally she turned away.

"I believe him." She turned her back and left his field of vision. He found himself relaxing slightly, as if her trust was a measure of protection against the others.

0000000000

He left the room, figuring the others needed time to process. He couldn't imagine what he'd done to piss everyone off. Sprawling on his bed he picked up the tablet. He hadn't thought about it before, but now curiosity burned and he pulled up the search screen. In moments he was transfixed - thousands of pictures, hundreds of articles - Iron Man, Hulk, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Captain America. Tony, Bruce, Clint, Natasha, and Steve. A band of heroes, skilled and deadly. The Avengers it seemed.

He clicked through, reading first about Tony and his saga. Then he focused on Bruce. The man turned monster turned hero. Loki smiled sadly, understanding at last why everyone worried when the doc was upset. He, of course, hadn't remembered, and thus hadn't treated Bruce any differently. He wondered if that was why the other man had warmed to him so quickly. It also explained some of Tony's remarks and Bruce's tendency toward meditation and occasionally having green eyes.

There were hundreds of pages about Steve, though Loki just skimmed a few before looking for the others. There wasn't as much on Clint or Natasha. They seemed to operate on a more covert level. He gave up when everything he tried to access about Clint came up classified or redacted. He'd have to find out what had happened another way. With a deep, steadying breath he typed in his own name.

Nothing immediately relevant came up - mythology and legend primarily. He made a reminder on his device to go back to that, and then tried again. His name plus the Avengers. He gasped and clicked open the video that accompanied the first hyperlink. Unless he had a twin, that was undeniably him. He trailed a fingertip lightly over his image; black leather, golden helmet ("oh, of course... The deer references.") and maniacal smirk. And every person that had been in the room tonight had been trying to kill him, and he them.

"Jarvis?" He knew his room would have the connection, though he'd never tried it.

"Sir?"

"Are there any surveillance videos of... Of last time I was here? Like when Tony said Bruce smashed me into the floor..."

"Are you sure sir?" The AI almost seemed like he was concerned.

"Please."

"If you'll just touch the icon that has popped up."

Loki tapped his tablet and watched silently as he threw Tony out the window and was bowled over by a red and gold blur. Then he watched himself lay breathlessly in a deep gouge as Bruce slammed him into the floor again and again. The AI seemed to have called up some other resources as well, since when that scene faded he found himself watching as he took control of Clint and used him as a weapon. He sighed and clicked the device off. He lay there, staring at the ceiling. "No wonder they hate me Jarvis." There was no reply.

Hours later he finally slept.

00000000

Steve swept up the glass as Natasha put broken wood into a trash bag. Tony stomped over to the bar, muttering about how he couldn't have nice things around here because some people have to break everything. Clint just stared stonily at the floor from the chair he perched in. It had been about ten minutes since Loki had left when the doc came back. He glanced around the mess and sighed, sitting curled into the corner of the couch.

No one spoke. Tony came back across the room with a drink in hand as Natasha and Steve finished cleaning up. He sprawled on the couch next to Bruce, and took a swallow. Everyone's attention snapped to Tony as he suddenly sputtered and coughed, looking at the glass in his hand as if it had become a snake.

"What the hell?" He choked out, and Bruce snorted softly. Tony continued to make disgusted sounds as he got up and headed back to the bar. He picked up the bottle he'd poured from and sniffed it. He grimaced at it before turning to face the couch. "Apple juice?"

Bruce nodded, trying not to laugh. "Loki's idea?" Bruce nodded again and made a soft sound that he tried to cover with a cough. "Assholes. That was my good scotch Bruce."

Bruce finally laughed out loud when he noticed the stricken and confused expressions everyone was wearing. "We wondered when you'd get to that bottle. He did that four days ago."

"What is going on here Tony?" Steve looked from one to the other as Bruce kept chuckling to himself and Tony pushed the offending bottle away and reached for another.

"Loki likes to play tricks on me." Tony sounded grumpy.

"Tell them about the time he -"

"Shut up Bruce."

"Put yellow dye -"

"Shut up Bruce!"

"In your shampoo."

Natasha laughed suddenly. "He what?"

Bruce continued "or how he switched all the coffee to decaf and laced it with diphenhydramine?"

Tony came back to the couch and sat with a huff. He took a long drink, grateful that this was alcohol. "Shut up Bruce."

"Wait, what?" Clint leaned forward. "Loki. Insane would be ruler of earth. Plays tricks on you? Like frat house level, stupid pranks?"

Tony angrily hitched a shoulder. "Yeah. He thinks he's funny." The coffee thing had been awful. He'd had a killer hangover and had to go to a meeting that morning. He'd found himself snoring through a presentation on ... well, something they considered important. When he'd gotten home he'd discovered he'd been drinking sleeping pill laced decaf thanks to Loki's devious and bizarre sense of humor. When questioned he'd simply grinned and said something about Tony needing more sleep.

"Jarvis?" Natasha had apparently been talking to the computer because she turned the tv on and an image of Tony with canary yellow hair filled the screen. The video was from the lab, and he saw himself storm in and then out. Even Steve was smiling.

"He needed to lighten up." Video Loki said with a smile.

Tony frowned at Bruce. "Traitor." He got up and stood in front of the screen. "So. Before you guys try to kill him again, perhaps we can talk this through?" He made a few motions and a new image appeared.

Steve looked dismayed. Natasha inhaled with a tiny hiss. Bruce sighed. Only Tony and Clint didn't react to the beaten and unconscious Loki. "He was nearly dead when I found him. He stayed unconscious for three days. When he woke up... Well..." The pictured jumped forward and a clean but still pathetic Loki asked quietly, "You've called me Reindeer Games, Loki, and Bambi. What's my name?"

The video jumped ahead and Tony was speaking. "This is Bruce. You two have met before. He actually kicked your ass the last time. Smashed you into the floor - I had to have a new floor put in to get your imprint out."

They watched as Loki squirmed under Bruce's inspection and then said, "Hello. I suppose I'm Loki. That's what he said my name is anyway. Do you know how to make anything besides sandwiches? Tony can't cook to save his life and I'm sick of this chocolate shake supplement stuff." Someone snorted quietly.

Tony turned the screen off. "He hasn't shown a trace of power - until that shield tonight." Clint had the grace to look abashed. "He plays stupid tricks on me, he's incredibly adept at mechanical tinkering, and he eats like Bruce after a visit from the Other Guy. Other than that he's been a perfectly normal houseguest."

"How'd he get so damaged?" Steve wondered out loud. "I mean, he looked like he'd been tortured."

"He was. He doesn't remember how or why, but he's been sliced, diced, burned, starved and more. He seemed to be healing incredibly quickly, but that must have been a protective illusion because as soon as he woke up he was back to looking like death eating a soda cracker."

"So what do we do now?"

They talked long into the night. Steve and Natasha sided with Bruce and Tony immediately. Only Clint kept some reservations, but he was outnumbered. He could let go of the immediate desire to destroy the man, but he couldn't forgive and forget as everyone else seemed to have done. All he could do was watch and wait for Loki to show his true colors. He promised not to outright attack Loki and to maintain a truce, but that's all he agreed to by the end of the discussion.


	6. Confidence

_"Jotun. Traitor. Runt." Rivulets of blood. Sharp agony. Straining not to scream. The feel of some part of him, some essence draining away. And always the silver chains at his wrists._

He woke, sweating and gasping. It was early morning, but he knew he wouldn't sleep again. Wearily he picked up his jeans from the floor where he'd left them last night. A moment later he dropped them with a wince. Two of his fingertips were bleeding. The glass from being slammed through the table was still embedded in the denim. He tugged a pair of black pajama pants from a drawer, as well as a deep green tank top and took them into the bathroom. He took a cold shower, rinsing the dreams from his body as best as he could.

He didn't leave his room that day. He had no way of knowing if the others were still there, or what they'd say if he saw them again. He was, and it was painful to admit especially to himself, afraid. Afraid that Clint may have swayed them into believing he was still a threat, someone they needed to eliminate. Most of the day was spent idly playing with the tablet or staring at the ceiling. Time lost meaning as one blink would reveal several hours had passed while the surety that it had been at least a half hour showed it had been seconds.

The city lit up as the sky faded. The lights in the room stayed off and Loki paced from bed to window and back, his pale skin reflected in the blackening windows as the night deepened. He finally decided to do what he'd been putting off and use the tablet for more research. A slow dread filled him as he settled back into his bed to read. He wondered what he'd find and what he would do when he found it.

He'd just taken a deep breath, steeling himself, when he felt it. Someone was coming. Tony most likely but he was unsure. He slid down, rolling on his side, hiding the glowing screen beneath him. A few breaths later ...

"Hey, Bambi, you ok in there?" Tony knocked on the door with a knuckle and waited. After no reply came he quietly opened the door and poked his head around it. In the mostly dark room, Loki was curled on his side, facing the other way, breathing the slow deep breaths of sleep. Tony exhaled, a tiny sigh, as he looked at the former god. Loki was getting better physically. His hair was growing in black and shiny. His body had filled out a bit, muscle instead of bone showing beneath the fitted shirts he'd chosen for himself. But mentally, well, Tony knew that being attacked last night wasn't going to help with that.

Softly, not wishing to wake him, Tony spoke. "I'm sorry Loki. I didn't think." He slipped back through the door, closing it with a click.

Loki turned to face the door, wide awake and with a pained look to his eyes. He didn't think Tony had ever apologized to anyone, much less admit that he "didn't think." An unfamiliar pang shivered through Loki's chest. The sooner he remembered who he was, the sooner he could figure out what to do. He either had to make it up to everyone, or ... Or what?

He thumbed through the tags he'd made, going back to the page he'd come to when he first searched for his own name. Scrolling quickly through the blue and black texts his eyes widened. Flicking the screen he went back. "Jotunheim." Shakily he tapped the link and read. Massive blue beings, with burning red eyes, a sub-zero touch and the magic of seiòr. His mind writhed as he read and his eyes lost their focus.

 _"No son of mine, but a Laufeyson. Frost giant. Stunted and weak, but a monster none the less."_

Flickers of memories surfaced. He was a frost giant. He'd been drawn to the book the other day, hadn't known why. It explained why he was cold when he slept, why he hadn't been able to stand the hot shower. Why they'd called him "Jotun" - not a name, but a curse. Why they'd burned his skin. He remembered the large imposing man, the feeling of betrayal and loss at those words, the anger that burned through him. But was that why he'd done what he had done? The thoughts didn't mesh; there had to be more.

That path seemed too painful for the moment so he switched tactics. Blinking away unshed tears he backtracked and pulled up the videos of himself that Jarvis had given him. The shield thing that he'd produced to protect himself nagged at him. He studied himself intently, noticing the things he hadn't the first time. He'd made the shield before, as well as several other odd manifestations. He went back to the search page and in a few moments found more footage of himself during his ... Whatever he'd been doing. A hoard of people, cowering in fear as his image doubled and redoubled around them. Flicking from a black suit and scarf to his leather and cloak in a heartbeat.

He dropped the device and headed back to the bathroom. Something had clicked, and he wanted to experiment. The light was harsh as he stood staring at himself in the mirror. He focused, taking steadying breaths and gripped the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles whitened. Nothing happened.

 _Chains... Something vital being blocked, hidden._

A hiss sucked through his teeth. The chains! Desperately he clawed his wrists. They'd been used to subdue him. He had power, but it had been... Taken? Destroyed? He was afraid to look, but when he saw his arms were bare he sagged in relief. Maybe he could do this. He leaned against the counter again and closed his eyes. He searched through himself until he found something. It was tiny and wavering, but he latched on and willed it to life. It felt like a spark catching tinder deep within him. It surged through his body in an electric rush. The seiòr! He burned with the pride of it. When he opened his eyes he laughed.

He'd done it! Not only had he done it, he knew he could do it again, and more. A tightness he hadn't realized he'd been carrying left his body and he felt better than he had since he could really remember. He turned to leave the bathroom again, waving a hand and making the duplicate image he walked past vanish. He kept the long black locks now trailing past his shoulders.

The night was young, and he was hungry. He couldn't let Clint make him too afraid to leave his room forever, and now that he knew he could protect himself he was more confident. He didn't want to show off his rediscovered powers, but knowing they were there gave him security. He left his room and headed for the kitchen.


	7. Seiór and the Beast

"You don't know what you're asking director." He pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses, scrunching his eyes closed. The tinny voice on his cell phone was no less demanding. "Director, with all due respect..." He was cut off abruptly. "Yes sir." He flipped the phone closed, and let it clatter to the counter top. He tried to keep his breathing in check, but it was growing difficult. He'd been under too much stress for too long and Fury had just asked him to swallow what little dignity he had left and work with S.H.I.E.L.D. to help him "gain control" as Fury put it. Bullshit.

He growled, low in his throat, like a dog with its hackles raised. His fingers spasmed on the countertop, green threading through his veins down the backs of his hands and up his bared arms beneath the rolled sleeves of the button down shirt. A small moan slipped from his lips and he shuddered. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. In and out. In and out.

It would be bad to let the Hulk out. He'd destroy Tony's kitchen, the tower, who knew what. But at the same time, it would feel ... So good. To let go of his control, even briefly. To let his mind take a backseat. A loud, sharp sound made him realize he'd flexed so hard he'd made a crack in the stone of the counter.

"Oh, fuck." It was a helpless whisper as he tried to rein himself back in.

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Loki looked up from the floor when he heard the noise. He walked faster, then faster still when more sounds, like the breaking of bones echoed towards him. _His arms hung useless, ribs shattered, pain lancing through him as a laughing brute struck him, breaking his collar bone with a twig-like snap_. He shuddered but kept going, trying to outpace the memory. When he reached the kitchen area he stopped short, puzzlement and fear on his face.

"Back away Loki." It was choked, barely discernible. Bruce was trembling, his arms solid green, his eyes looking pleadingly at Loki. "Jarvis, call Tony."

Loki wondered where Tony had gone, but didn't figure there was time for him to get here. Bruce was seconds away from becoming the monster he so loathed though it was part of him. He put his hands out, palms facing Bruce. Light and silent, careful as a cat he edged toward the struggling man.

"It's ok Bruce. You got this. Come back ... buddy." He choked slightly on the word, unsure if it was allowed to pass his lips. He shook his head, as though shaking away a fly, and continued. "Bruce. Come on. Relax. Listen to me."

The doc groaned, arms quaking. Loki summoned the seiòr, making sure to keep the telltale glow held back - the faceless voice would see it. He let it fill his hands as he crept close enough to touch the doc. Bruce made another growling sound. Loki stood behind the shorter man, sliding his hands over the taut shoulders. He willed the other man to calm, to still his mind, focus on his breath. The seiòr responded to his direction, pushing through his hands and into Bruce, soothing and relaxing as it went. "Come back buddy. You can do this. You're strong." He whispered it softly, breath ruffling the greying hair at Bruce's temple.

Slowly Bruce lost some of his tension as the magic swept through him. The tracers of green dissipated and his hands unclenched. He sighed and collapsed, unconscious. Loki had no choice, close as he was, but to catch him as he fell. Relief flooded his face. He hadn't been sure it would work; he had expected to become another Loki-shaped hole in the floor. He sat on the tile, cradling Bruce in his lap.

"What the fuck happened?"

His head jerked up, gentle expression melting into shock as he looked up at a fully suited Iron Man.

000000000000

Jarvis had alerted him to the situation upstairs as soon as possible. Tony had been working on a new project - a motorcycle that looked like a heap of rust but was actually a vintage Indian in decent condition under the years of neglect. He'd been wearing headphones attached to a relatively outdated digital music device. Loki had replaced his usual play list with Kids Bop and Punk cover versions but had kept the information for the originals so it went undetected. A confused and pissed off Tony had flicked through, wondering why in the hell things looked right but sounded awful. It was a low trick and he wasn't in the mood to mess with restoring the music to rights just then so he dug out a third generation device that wasn't connected to wireless or Bluetooth and set to work.

It had taken Dum-E and a fire extinguisher to finally get his attention. When he'd finally finished sputtering and wiping foam from his eyes he noticed the video screen he'd been ignoring. "God damnit!" The Hulk Buster suit wasn't entirely restored, much less improved, but he went for it anyway. It had taken precious minutes and he fully expected a Hulk tantrum to deal with. When he dashed into the room he stopped so abruptly he wondered momentarily if he damaged his brain against his own skull. There, on the _intact_ floor Loki sat, cradling a perfectly human, though passed out, Bruce.

"What the fuck happened?" Loki's attention focused on him as he slipped out of the suit and came closer. He saw the broken counter, saw his unresponsive friend, and in a rush of anger bent and suddenly gripped Loki's arm tightly enough to bruise.

"I didn't do anything." The words were soft, defensive. Tony squeezed a bit more, dismayed when green eyes didn't waver and no sound was made.

"What did you do to him Rudolph?" He relaxed his grip but didn't move back.

"I helped." Now Loki did move, but it was just a slight turn, shifting Banner's weight.

"Before you attack, sir, you should know that it thanks to Mr. Laufeyson that your home still stands." Jarvis intervened smoothly. A small smirk twitched across "Mr. Laufeyson's" lips but he didn't speak. "Doctor Banner was quite distressed after the Director's phone call. Heart rate 198, respirations 32. Mr. Laufeyson's intervention was quite timely, sir." Tony had muttered "bastard," under his breath at the mention of Fury and he was sure he heard the A.I.'s unspoken admonishment of "you were unavailable" at the end of the speech.

He sighed and put Bruce's arm around his shoulder, taking half the weight and standing. "Sorry Lokes. I'm just super protective of the Doc. Help me get him to a couch or something?" Loki rose as well and the two manhandled the shorter man to the nearest sofa. Stark went to the bar to pour a glass of something strong. He picked up a bottle and waved it at Loki. "You didn't fuck with this one did you?" Satisfied with the head shake Tony poured, threw it back, and with a small grimace poured another. "Drink?" Again, the head shake. He shrugged and sank into a plush chair.

With a focused stare he caught Loki's eyes. "So. Lokes. How the hell did you do that?"

The former god shifted uncomfortably and made a noncommittal noise before shrugging and heading for the fridge. Tony let him go, brain whirring.


	8. They're Coming

Tony and Bruce glared at Fury any time they looked at the man. All of the Avengers, minus Thor who was still in Asgard, were seated at a large conference table in a S.H.I.E.L.D. building. Fury was giving them and equally stony, if one eyed, stare.

"Well if there are no further questions, we'll press on." Fury watched as everyone shook their heads. "Right. Then has anyone seen Thor in the last few weeks?" Again, no answer except the head shakes.

"Thor hasn't come back from Fairyland yet." Tony's voice was confident but his eyes slid away from Fury's direct attention.

"Funny you should be the one to put his two cents in Stark. It seems to me that an energy signature as well as a ... landing site ... Were noted in upstate New York. City surveillance shows you headed off in that direction a short time after that." Tony had paled ever-so-slightly, but he didn't speak again. "So if Thor is still 'in Fairyland,' I am left to wonder just what in blue Hell you found out there."

"Nothing." It was a little too hasty, but Tony's eyes gave nothing away.

"Nothing." Fury repeated. "Are you sure? Because I'd like to think you're not stupid enough to try to hide some thing from me. Like an injured Thor, or another of his crazy-assed siblings? The last thing we need is to get caught up in an inter-dimensional family squabble again." The silence was loud when he'd finished. Inwardly Fury groaned. They were hiding something again. At least Stark was. He'd already alienated Banner again, and now Stark was playing games. Damnit, why didn't these people just cooperate.

"Fine. Since answers seem to be in short supply, we'll move to the last and most important business. We're getting information and signals that seem to be pointing to another attack. The technological breakthroughs we've made with the Chitauri remains have been useful in deciphering previously misunderstood, and therefore ignored, background noise in certain areas." Only Natasha and Steve seemed to be paying full attention. Tony was zoned out, staring into space. Bruce was staring down at the table, fidgeting quietly with his glasses that he was holding instead of wearing. Clint was ripping off squares from the briefing papers he'd been given and folding them into little paper footballs which he'd then flick across the table into Natasha's hair. She studiously ignored them, keeping her attention on the speaker. Steve took notes, writing down every word spoken.

"We think this means another attack is coming." Everyone straightened and now all five were focusing on him. "I knew that would get your attention. So listen up. We haven't been able to figure out precisely what is coming, or when. But it is coming. And you -" he caught each person's face individually, staring hard at them "all need to be ready. You will be updated as more information comes. Stark, Banner, I'm transferring the files we have to you as well. Hopefully one, or both of you, can take some time out of what has you so involved, and worry about the new fate of the world. Dismissed."

After they'd gone Fury sat, elbows propped on the table, and rested his chin against his clasped hands. Stark had been visibly distracted until the mention of Thor. He knew something. The rest weren't as easy to read. Other than shaking the bits of paper out of her hair and shoving Clint into the door frame as they exited, Natasha hadn't reacted at all. Steve couldn't keep a secret to save his own life, but he hadn't looked uncomfortable. The doc was still mad enough at him that even if he knew anything it was buried under a layer of anger think enough that he'd never unearth a secret. Clint was mostly unknown and honestly still less than fully trusted after the whole Loki debacle. That just left Stark. And he would hide anything just to piss S.H.I.E.L.D. off. Or he could be trying to make Fury _think_ he was hiding something, just to give him a headache.

"Damn Superheroes." With a mutter and a head shake he got up to find a strong drink.

000000

"It's nothing Lokes. Don't worry about it." Tony and Bruce were sitting at a lab table, Chitauri data spread on screens around them, new signals and half interpretations in front of them. Each had his own screen and both were selecting, moving, frowning, and manipulating the data in his own way, nudging the other if a breakthrough was made in some area.

Loki glanced around at the information surrounding the men and his eyes widened. He knew what this was. He recognized it. It was from _before_. He saw the attack plans, saw the Chitauri, saw himself as the pawn disguised as a leader. The other two didn't seem to be able to read the signals, but he could. He remembered. He'd been put under a mind control similar to the one he'd used on Hawkeye, but infinitely stronger. He'd been forced to mentally enslave and manipulate, to lead the attack. There had been times he'd surfaced, tried to break the control he'd been under, but each time he'd lose himself and slip back into terror.

The stuff that guys were working the hardest on was incomplete, but what he saw made his Jotun blood freeze. His breath hitched and he excused himself. They were coming! And no one knew it. He couldn't tell them without letting them know he was remembering. He didn't want to start a fight with them about his past, didn't want to reveal that he was gaining his powers and memories. He especially didn't want to admit yet that he hadn't been entirely under his own control - they wouldn't believe him anyway. He was scared. Scared of the coming attack, but scared of being lumped in as an enemy of the Avengers and left to the invaders. They wouldn't take him either - he'd betrayed them when the Chitauri had fallen and he'd left the influence of his tormentor. He'd be sent back to be tortured again. He didn't think his mind would survive it again. He'd barely escaped this time.

There had to be a way to facilitate their work. To give them a breakthrough without it coming from him. He went back to his room, grabbing his tablet. "Jarvis?"

"Yes Mr. Loki?" Loki had requested the faceless servant no longer call him by his second name, but the A.I.'s inherent manners with everyone but Tony still called him "mr."

"Can you send me copies of what they have in the lab? The -" he paused, not wanting to give it away that he knew it. "The stuff they brought home from their meeting?" He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping the data wasn't blocked off from being shared.

"It should be available momentarily."

He slumped on his bed, curled around the tablet and pressed the "download" button that appeared.

By the time he was done reading the file, he had a headache and a lump of dread in the pit of his stomach. He knew when and where the attack was coming. They had a week to prepare. Which meant he had very little time to figure out how to make they guys interpret this on their own. He curled his knees to his chest and buried his face against them. If he couldn't figure out how to slip them the information they needed he'd have to tell them he was remembering. And they'd go back to being enemies. He sighed. He really had enjoyed having friends.

000000

"I need a break." Tony pushed himself off the stool and stretched his arms above his head, feeling the deep pops and clicks as his spine and hips realigned.

"Me too." Bruce's hair was wild from having run his hands through it dozens of times. He stretched as well before pacing around the table.

Calmly Tony watched. "So, about the other day..." He ventured carefully.

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh and one side of his mouth quirked. "I wondered when we'd get to that."

"How did you keep from ... "

"From becoming the Hulk?"

Tony shrugged. "Well, yeah. It looked like a really close thing. I've never seen you come back from the edge like that."

The shorter scientist stilled, looking at the floor. "It wasn't me."

A short bark of laughter. "Then who was it? Loki?" The smile slid off his face when the doc looked up and met his eyes.

"Yes."

"No, really." Tony moved to stand in front of him and watched his eyes carefully. He placed his hands on the doc's arms, keeping him from backing away. He could feel the need to squirm in the tension of the other man. "Bruce. What happened."

"Magic."

There was no whisper of a lie to it, no facetiousness. Tony stared, mouth open slightly. He finally said, "magic?" He released Bruce and went to sit down.

"It had to have been. I was so close, barely holding on. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done to keep control that long. I wanted to beat the shit out of Loki when he came in. All the rage, all the frustration from his last visit, I just wanted to Hulk out and do my best to kill him. But then..." He trailed off, lost in thought, eyes focused on an invisible point in eternity. Finally, "he touched me, but instead of a rush of anger, it felt like ..." Words couldn't describe it. They paled in comparison to the feeling of it. "It was like a warm rush of calm. He touched me and all of the Hulk was swept away, leaving behind just me. I passed out." He blinked and looked back at Tony. "He kept me from transforming."

"Well. Holy damn." Tony was stunned. "I'd been ready to blast his ass back to Asgard, but once I saw you were ok -more or less, you were knocked out - I just let it go figuring you had to have gained some miraculous control."

"Nope. Not me. Him." They lapsed into silence for a few minutes.

"Pizza?" Tony got up again and headed for the elevator. "I'm starved and we're getting nowhere on this right now."

"Sure." Bruce rose and followed, still half thinking about the day in the kitchen and half worried about the impending threat neither of them were making much progress on.


	9. Archery

"We need to talk. Come on."

A jab about a breakup speech died on Loki's lips as he uncurled from the sofa. It seemed a bad idea to follow Clint, but bad ideas appear to have been his forte in the past, so he simply nodded and stood, smoothing his green t-shirt.

"Not here." Clint strode away, completely confident that he would follow. When they'd stepped into the elevator Loki tried to speak but was immediately shushed. "Wait." They'd descended to a level unknown to him. It was revealed as a large archery range, work bench (though night and day different from those in the labs), and small area that seemed to be reserved for calm and ... meditation? He looked questioningly at the shorter man, but Clint just jerked his chin in the direction of the table and led the way.

Spread across the scarred and etched surface were dozens of arrows. Some were shorter, thicker, with blunt tips that were obviously meant not to pierce but for something else. There were arrows with heads tipped with wicked points, honed sharp and lethal. Some of these were narrower than others, their points spreading into equally deadly points that flared from the back. Meant to do more damage as they were removed, it appeared. A few were like triangular razor blades, glinting two different metallic sheens. There were meant to pierce armor apparently with a stronger substance for puncture, and to slice through the flesh underneath with the more finely honed metal. Clint was picking up and inspecting different arrows, holding one that spiraled slightly into a curved and nearly hollow tip.

"Tony doesn't have surveillance in here does he." It was a simple statement, meant to show the archer that he'd figured it out. Clint had brought him here, to a place where he was in comfortable, confident, and probably most importantly, where he felt in control. The show of lethality, subdued as it was, was to make that point irrefutable. He refrained from touching the array spread before him, but curiosity burned as he waited for a response. How would these react in flight? What adjustments would be needed to the draw, the string, the stance? Would you lose as much range as he suspected, or would it not matter with some of them? And what sliver of madness had lead to the spiraled, hypodermic-like creations?

A long minute later, Loki tore his gaze away from the weapons and looked up to find that he was being stared at. They locked eyes, neither blinking, willing the other to make a move from across the table. Finally he looked away. It was uncomfortable to look into the face of the man he'd once commanded so entirely. That he hadn't been in complete control of himself at the time hardly mattered - he doubted it would make a difference, even if he deigned to tell. When he looked back Barton was smiling wryly.

"So we understand each other then." At Loki's curt nod and minor scowl he continued. "No, this is my private space. Other than the bedroom I keep here. Tony doesn't interfere and he certainly doesn't spy. I've made sure of that." The last was a low rumble, almost growled out. His hands were spread flat to the table and he leaned forward. Loki wanted to step back, but he'd already admitted discomfort through his actions once and he wasn't about to do it again.

"When are you going to tell them you're back to your old self?" The conversational tone coated the barbed words.

 _Fuck_ , he thought. He mentally scrambled, reminding himself he was a god of lies and charm. He straightened, shoulders back, stance braced. Smoothly he replied, "And what makes you believe that I am, as you say, back to my old self?"

The smack of Clint's palms rattled the arrows, the sharp sound clanging around the large room. "I'm not dumb. And I'm certainly not blind!" Venom dripped from the expression that came with the words.

Suddenly tired, Loki let his shoulders round slightly and he let some of his facade go. "I know you're not. What gave me away?"

Shrugging, Clint replied, "Several things actually. Your hair for one." Seeing the querulous look that gained him, he went on. "Tony shaved it off. It was growing in and getting longer, but suddenly one day it was back to this." He made a fluttering motion near his own head, indicating the length.

 _Ah, that first night I remembered I could call the seiór. I forgot I did that._ "That's hardly evidence. I could have done it subconsciously."

"Ah. But then you calmed the doc. You can't tell me that didn't take some of your old powers." It was so matter of fact that Loki couldn't even try to deny it. Well, he could, but why bother. He'd been so sick of hiding himself lately, though he knew it was for the best, that it almost felt good to admit it. He sighed internally though, realizing that this probably meant he was back to being the enemy and would pretty likely be sent back for further torment.

"You weren't there." He finally settled on a bland statement as he continued to sort out his thoughts. Was this a trap? A distraction to keep him from running while the rest of the team geared up to take him down? Had they called Thor? He'd been pretending to not remember his elder brother, ignoring the others if they referenced him, and not mentioning the thunder god at all himself.

"Jarvis couldn't alert Stark. He was apparently listening to headphones rather than the house system. Something about 'that lanky bastard fucking with the music.' You wouldn't have any idea what that means, would you? Ah. Of course." He smiled in response to Loki's affirmation, making Loki even more confused and worried. His eyes flicked around, looking for an exit.

"Don't get your antlers in a wad. You're fine. I didn't tell them. Besides," here Clint smirked. "I wasn't sure until just now. Anyway. Jarvis alerted me next that Bruce was in trouble since I was the next nearest. Sounded like it was pretty dire, but when I got here Jarvis said it was under control and wouldn't give me access. When I asked Tony he said he didn't do anything, but that it was fine. Bruce hasn't uttered a word, but he seems to have a new fascination with you. I figure you must have had something to do with the fact that the tower still stands, no one has any new bruises, and Jarvis won't let me access any of the video."

Saying a silent thank you to Jarvis, Loki stared. "Fascination? Jarvis locked you out? You didn't tell?" It was a rather inelegant speech for him, but he was confused.

"You can't tell me you haven't seen the way Bruce has started covertly watching you." Loki shook his head. "Well, he does. Ever since that day he watches you like you're some sort of new toy or a science experiment he isn't allowed to play with."

"He does not." He'd never noticed. It'd only been a few days, but surely he'd have caught the doc by now.

"Hey, they don't call me Hawkeye for nothing. I've seen him. As for Jarvis, I swear he's a real person living here instead of a computer program. I don't know sometimes if Tony even knows what he's created in that A.I." He walked away as he talked, pausing at a rack of bows before returning to the table. "Here." He handed one to Loki. It was a modern compound bow, made of some high tech material that Loki couldn't begin to name. "60 pound draw - that ok?" He hefted his own bow, gathered up some of the wicked arrows and led the way toward the range half of the floor.

"Not telling, well... You've had plenty of time and opportunity to cause damage. Beyond the stupid pranks that is. You could have left Bruce to Hulk out, could have killed the guys in their sleep a thousand times over. Jeeze, you could have taken over any of our minds at any time. You haven't. I'm not saying I trust you, but..." He trailed off with another shrug. "Why haven't you tried to get into anyone's mind?" He nocked an arrow, pulled, and let it fly. The thwocking sound it made when it hit its mark reverberated. "Over there." He pointed toward a smaller table Loki hadn't seen. Here were more arrows here. Less sophisticated, but still good. He grabbed a handful with a small grin. Apparently Hawkeye didn't think him proficient in this weapon. He went back, standing at a taped mark a few feet away from the other man.

"I can't." He let the seiór flow through his hands, not bothering to dampen the accompanying green glow. Best to remind Barton he wasn't fully helpless.

"Da-amn. Glad I gave you the one that's my least favorite." Clint looked over in dismayed amazement at the bow Loki now held. Far less modern, made of strong flexible wood with a leather wrapped grip and graceful carvings, it fit Loki's hands perfectly.

He laughed. "I'll put it back. I promise." Another green glow and the synthetic fletchings on the cheap arrows became feather, the shafts better balanced and more sturdy. He nocked one and sent it after Clint's, hitting his own target dead center.

"Gimme some of those." Loki handed half the altered arrows over. "Can't say I beat you if we use different stuff." He drew and aimed for a further mark. When he'd hit it he turned back. "What do you mean you can't? I've seen you do it."

With a grimace Loki took his shot, matching the other man. "Just what I said. I can't take over minds. That..." He faltered, unsure for a moment before throwing caution to the wind and confessing. "That wasn't fully my power that did that. Without the staff and the madman behind me I don't count that as one of my abilities."

Barton looked at him a long moment before speaking again. "That explains a lot actually. There were times under your influence that it felt like you weren't really the one in the driver's seat. Times it felt like you were just as rolled as I was..."

Loki fought the urge to squirm. Clint had it right, but it would be admitting yet another weakness. "There are beings far superior to myself in some ways, loathe as I am to admit that. Just be grateful you had a buffer between his mind and yours."

They took turns shooting a few more before Clint broke the silence again. "Hey, let's make this interesting." He checked to make sure Loki wasn't holding ready and ran down range. He messed with a few things before coming back and handing over half the retrieved shafts. "Speed shooting for accuracy. You win, I'll let you play with my new toys" he motioned to where he'd set his bundle of arrows from before. "I win and you owe me."

He definitely wanted to test some of those "toys," but he didn't like the idea of owing anyone, least of all Clint. "Owe you what?" It came out suspicious.

"Trust me. It'll be fun. You'll like it. Are you that afraid I'll win?" Mocking challenge laced his words but his eyes were laughing.

"Low blow, Barton, going for my pride. You're on. 20 shots, speed and accuracy win?"

The archer had already placed his quiver on his back, loaded with his half of the feathered projectiles. He offered a second pouch to Loki but it was refused. Instead Loki lined up several arrows between his fingers, angled down and away from his hand. He moved the table closer, dumping the remaining contents and lining up the rest of his twenty. "What if we match one another?"

"Then we play with my toys and you owe me. So it's in your best interest to win outright. When that counter hits green, shoot, okay?" He pointed to a flashing red light fixed to the ceiling midrange. "That way you can't accuse me of cheating. Ready? When I hit the button it'll flash four times red and then green."

Loki nodded, feeling a calm determination settle through his limbs. The bow had been considered a woman's weapon, made to keep distance and maintain the lady's elegance. Men were to fight more brutally, more boldly. Perhaps because of his magic, and his mother's influence, Loki had always been more inclined to it as a weapon. There was a finesse, a grace, and a stealth inherent here that he found he rather liked, that he had an affinity for. He was able to quite master this "woman's weapon" by a young age. Between this and his skill with throwing knives, he could hold his own without magic for a fair time. Time enough usually for his big brother to save him, or some other embarrassing salvation to crop up. Though once he had his seiór at full strength he never allowed it to come to that anymore. He closed his eyes, shutting out those memories, and opened them to focus on the task at hand.

On green both men nocked, drew, and fired over and over. The arrows Loki held between his fingers acted as almost a speed-loader as he was able to fire, place another to the string a fire again with little added motion. When he ran out he grabbed several more and the rapid process was repeated. Clint, however, lost some speed when reaching back for his next. Still, Loki finished only a bare second faster. He stood smiling.

"Not so fast Lokes." Hearing Tony's nickname for him come out of Clint's mouth was a brief surprise, but Clint kept taking before he could acknowledge it. "You may have been faster, but who was more accurate?" They set their weapons down and walked together to the targets. Close examination revealed that Clint had been the more accurate, several of his shots splitting the one before it, Robin Hood style. Loki's were closely grouped, an impressive showing against anyone else, but not against the Avengers' resident marksman.

"Tie." They both said together.

They heaved new targets into place, a little closer this time. "Some of these new heads I've been working on make trajectory a little hard to figure at first. The weight distribution is different."

Loki gripped the magicked arrows, ready to turn them back, but Clint touched the back of his hand. "Leave 'em. I like them." He handed over one of the twisted creations, taking the others and placing them on the work table. "Modeled after the Jagdkommando knife. Devastating to remove once it's in; even with a surgeon standing by its possible to bleed out."

It was impressive in its design, but the weight felt off balance. Eyes closed once again he concentrated, letting it balance across his palm. "May I?"

Clint nodded and he stepped back to the line. It flew well, but it wasn't accurate. Wordlessly he was handed another. This one was also less than perfect in aim. The third he concentrated his seiór on, shifting its heft slightly and thinning the whole thing by a tiny amount. It hit its mark. He retrieved them, handing them over. "Try these two, then the third. Tell me how it feels."

Clint had obviously practiced with the unadjusted ones; his first two shots were precise, though they didn't penetrate as deeply as Loki's had. The third struck deeply, dead center, a ringing hiss issuing from it as it slid between the first two.

"Ok, how the fuck'd you do that? I've been working on these for weeks." He practically ran down to get them, then shoved them at Loki. "Do these too." With a smile Loki touched them, letting Barton feel the change. "Clever." He murmured. "Balance ... Lengthened? More weight in longer area through the middle... Sleeker, thinned down overall. Brilliant bastard!" He grinned, and Loki smiled back.

They went through the arsenal, Loki taking test shots and giving genuine praise at some of the innovations. He had no other adjustments to suggest; aside from the jagdkommando it was evident that Clint had perfected his craft. They spend hours shooting and talking. Loki finally relented and tried one of the compound bows, while Clint tried his. Clint had more trouble adjusting than Loki, far too reliant on the modern assists. "Wanna leave that here so I can practice?" He'd nodded jokingly at the wooden weapon.

"I suppose."

Really? Thanks?" He'd been genuinely surprised when Loki had agreed.

They were packing it in when Clint stopped. "One more thing. How'd you do that where you had your arrows held funny." Here he flexed his hands, indicating the way Loki had been holding them earlier. "That's was awesome."

Loki launched into teaching mode, explaining the reasoning, the logistics, demonstrating and then correcting Clint's hold and motions. He'd paused several times, expecting his student to be bored or restless like Thor used to get when he tried to teach him something. But Clint was rapt, listening, practicing, and giving his full attention. He practiced a few times, laughing at his slip ups and raising a fist in triumph when he got it correct.

They quit when both of them noticed their stomachs grumbling. "Don't forget. You owe me Lokes." The ride up was far more companionable than the ride down had been. Not another word was spoken about Loki's secret. As they parted Clint looked back over his shoulder. "This doesn't mean I trust you." But there was a hint of warmth in his voice that made Loki smile in response.

"Nor I you Barton." He chuckled to himself. It seemed he had made another friend.


	10. Countdown

Back in his room, Loki sprawled across his bed. There was so much swirling in his brain that he felt like the fragile organ was being torn apart. He wondered if he should have told the archer of the impending threat that Stark and Banner were trying to decipher even now. It hadn't occurred to him to bring it up, and he was dismayed. It had felt so good to let go of the charade, to be himself and to show another person some of his specialized skill and knowledge. It had been far, far too long since anyone thought his interests worthwhile.

If only he hadn't been so ... So ... He sighed, unable to put words to it. He'd needed the hours he'd just spent, but he hoped sincerely that those hours hadn't cost him and the rest of his ... friends? ... dearly. He rolled gracefully from the mattress and his long legs carried him across the room. He favored black jeans these days, paired with jewel toned (heavy on the green) shirts and black sneakers. It was a fair deal different than the leather armor, sturdy boots, and cloak that he wore in the past, but he found it comforting rather than off putting. He knew he was less intimidating this way, less apt to remind everyone just how dangerous he could be.

Loki leaned against the cool glass, forehead resting on his arm, gazing at the city beneath him as he traced patterns idly up and down. He hadn't been fully himself when he was commanding the Chitauri. Hadn't been completely aware. But there had to be something in those memories, however dulled and twisted they were, that would help him here. He didn't want the others to know if he had a hand in figuring this out. Some of them would be quick to spin the situation on its head and accuse him of being behind it in the first place in order to ingratiate himself later. Oh yes, he could readily envision the fallout. The whole thing as one long con, a further attempt to bring things down. Never before in his life had Loki truly regretted being known as the trickster, prince of lies, silver tongue. Until now, when it could all work so badly against him, when he finally regained some of what he thought was lost to him a thousand years ago - normalcy.

Without standing away from the window he spoke softly. "Jarvis?"

"Yes Mr. Loki?"

He knew it was stalling, but... "Is there anyone you don't call by "Mr." or "Sir" or "Ms.?"

"Yes, Mr. Loki. There is one infrequent visitor I have been instructed to call "My Dope-Ass Fresh Prince." But he was rather insistent and Mr. Stark thought it better to humor him."

"How do I go about getting a new name?"

There was laughter evident in the cultured A.I.'s response. "I believe, Mr. Loki, that you would have to display some rather uniquely horrifying variety of what Mr. Stark refers to as 'crazy as all fuck and prone to violence' before I would be allowed to change protocol for you."

Loki smiled, huffing a laugh that caused the glass to fog briefly. "'Crazy as all fuck and prone to violence' huh? I guess I haven't gotten there yet have I?"

"No, Mr. Loki, I am confident that until you sever your own limb and try to use a sharpened bone to do your own 'computer programming,' you will fall well short of this particular requirement. Did you need assistance or did you really wish to make small talk about your designation?"

And just like that the humor was gone and Loki had to face the issue again. "Is there any way you can keep what I'm asking from Tony? I don't want him to be a part of this. Not yet at least." He added the last hastily, hoping the "not yet" may buy leniency.

"I'm afraid if he requests this information my programming will not allow me to keep it from him. And if anything may be detrimental to Mr. Stark, the tower, the Avengers, the world, or myself, I am programmed to alert him immediately. Barring that, I am able to keep things from the general data banks unless specifically queried about it."

It was too technical for Loki's complete understanding so he had to clarify. "So, if I understand then..." He hesitated before putting it to words. "I can keep this to ourselves if you deem it ok? But only as long as Tony doesn't ask specifically what we talked about? So he could randomly ask 'so what does Loki talk to you about?' and you would tell him?"

"Not quite. I have quite a bit of autonomy when it comes to determining what to divulge. As I stated, as long as it is not harmful, and as long as I am not asked specifically, there are a great many things that I observe or interact with that I do not deem worthy of Mr. Stark's attention. For instance, he is not aware of your research into the team and your past."

His knees gave out and he slid to the floor. Jarvis knew? How much? Since when? Why hadn't he told Tony? His chest heaved, breathing difficult and rapid. Panic clawed through him and he hunched in over himself. Did Tony know? Did S.H.I.E.L.D. know? Was that mortal Odin knock-off on his way here even now?

He didn't know how long he lay on the carpet, terrified and cowering. Eventually the whirlwind in his mind calmed and he was able to think a bit more logically. He was able to tell himself that were he on his way to being a captive, it would have happened far earlier. A calm voice was niggling at him and he uncurled to hear Jarvis speaking softly, giving instructions for regaining control over his breathing. He followed the voice, a slow deep inhale, a slow deep exhale, until he could sit up and think clearly.

"My apologies Mr. Loki. I did not realize that the information would be startling."

"How much do you know?" There was the faintest of trembles in the words. "About... About my situation?"

"I have few absolute facts, but I have many assumptions and deductions based on those facts. I can also surmise from your reaction that many of those are correct. You are well on your way to your former self. You have gained much, if not all, of your powers and memories. You wish to remain here and so hide this information from the rest because you assume you will be imprisoned if they find out. You have no intention of bringing the world to its knees, at least not at the moment or in the near future. You also do not wish to return to wherever you were before here; based on your condition on your arrival I agree with the last."

His head was reeling. The disembodied man had all the answers; all the information he had just stated in his matter-of-fact voice was correct. Loki started to speak but was cut off.

"Do not verbalize it. Were I to be sure of the absolute truth in this, I would be obligated to inform Mr. Stark immediately. As such, it remains a 'guess' if you will, and unless I am instructed to, I will not divulge."

"Um. Thank you?" It was a baffling mess and he wished he hadn't even woken the sentient voice.

"You're welcome. Now, what was it you wished to ask before?"

Loki tentatively outlined his idea, as Jarvis broke in every once in a while if he strayed towards something Mr. Stark would need to know. Eventually a plan was formed. Jarvis would provide copies and notes regarding what Bruce and Tony were working on. Loki would use his all-speak and prior knowledge of the Chitauri and, to a lesser extent, the new threat, to do his own investigating. His breakthroughs would be given to the other men as either observations made by Jarvis or as swapped data made to look like an oversight or glitch. It wasn't perfect, but it gave Loki a sense of purpose. He would help defend this realm, help make up for his destruction of it. Prove himself worthy of forgiveness.

One thing was for sure... He had to figure out the timeline they were on. He set to work with the updated data Jarvis provided and soon was lost in the tangled mess.

•••— — —•••

"Bruce?" Tony stepped back from the data model he was manipulating, mouth slack and eyes sharply focused.

"Mmm?" Bruce had his glasses off and was rubbing his eyes tiredly. He wasn't sure how long they'd been at it, but it felt like a decade.

"What'd you do?" Tony's voice was hushed, causing Bruce to put his glasses back in and look across the lab curiously at him.

"Nothing. Why?" He saw Tony's stance, his look of confused awe, and slid from the work stool. He stood next to Tony, looking him up and down for anything odd, then turned his attention to - "What did you do?"

Tony shook his head, still staring. "Wasn't me man. I thought you did it."

"I don't know who did it. But I do know one thing..." Bruce stepped back and peered around the room. "If we don't get the rest of this sorted soon..."

"We're fucked." Tony finished for him.

Bruce just nodded, attention turned once again to the countdown timer that had appeared in the jumble of alien information.

93:27:15

93:27:14

93:27:13

"Looks like we've got less than four days to get ready for this." The two set to work, energy renewed by desperation.


End file.
